Page 154 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“So you’re staying?”

“Make the deal.”

“All right. Deal.”

“You’ll tell me.”

“Yes,” he said, even when he knew the words would never come out of his mouth. “Now tell me you’re staying.”

“I didn’t want to go in the first place, but I will. I will, Nate.”

“This is home. No one’s leaving except for the press.”

“I need to call my parents—to have Dad and one of his members on the PR team help me put together a statement asking for privacy.” She rolled her eyes.

“I have to go back out—talk to Mac, Shawn, and Denny about what we have going on—what it’s likely to mean for the next couple of days.” He kissed her. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

She nodded and kissed him. “Be safe.”

“That’s always the plan.” He headed downstairs and looked out the living room window, noting that the news van was waiting across the street. Currently, this was what the long haul with Callie looked like. Now it was time to deal with it.

~~~~

Callie stirred the simmering marinara sauce she’d decided to make as she stared at the blinds twisted closed over the living room windows. Technically, it was dark and she wouldn’t have been able to see much of Nate’s view of the woods, but now that the choice to look outside had been taken away, she wanted what she couldn’t have. She set the spoon on the rest and got back to slicing apples for the salad she had no desire to eat, but preparing a home-cooked meal was keeping her busy.

It was nearly eight fifteen and she had yet to hear from Nate. He undoubtedly had his hands full with the press invading the island. At seven thirty, Gwen had given Callie a call, warning her that Captain Bob had brought back a boatload of news crews on the return ferry. Rumor had it the late-afternoon flights from Boston and New York had been full as well. She had little doubt if she peeked beyond the barrier of the wooden slats, she would see dozens of reporters camped out across the dirt road, eager and waiting for a sighting or comment from the subject of their biggest story, despite the fact that Dad had issued Callie’s request for space and privacy nearly two hours ago. She hadn’t been delusional enough to believe that a few simple words would make any real difference, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t hoped they might.

Sighing, she tossed the apple chunks among the chopped kale, dried cranberries, and walnuts, then reached for the citrus vinaigrette she’d mixed up, pausing when she recognized Ms. Battleman’s voice coming from the TV.

“No comment.” The short redhead hurried to a Miami Company Cab, stopping abruptly when she made it to the door. “Actually, I will say something. Leave that poor girl alone, you vultures. Let her have some peace.” Ms. Battleman looked directly into the camera and glared. “Maxwell, if you’re watching this, your stuff better be out of my house by the time I get back.” She looked at the reporter again. “Now don’t bother me.”

Callie set down the glass shaker with a sharp snap and grabbed the remote to turn off the television but stopped when side-by-side images of herself as a four-year-old sitting on a bed in a hospital johnny and a shot taken of her several months ago at the JFK International ribbon-cutting ceremony filled the screen. She gripped the sturdy black plastic tighter and flipped to a new station, watching a reporter giving a live broadcast next to the Sanderson, Massachusetts, sign while he spoke about Little Girl Lost taking refuge on Carter Island with her current boyfriend, Sheriff Nathan Carter.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as she hit Power and sank onto one of the couch cushions. This was already a mess and it had only just begun. She should have left—spared Nate from the worst of this nightmare, but she’d let herself believe him when he’d promised her they would get through this whole thing together. “Oh, God,” she said again, covering her face with her hands. How long would he put up with the chaos? When would he decide enough was enough and walk away? Nate had mentioned the long haul before he went back to work, but that was bound to change when he’d had one too many microphones shoved in his face.

Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled a shuddering breath. For nearly two months, she’d had everything she never knew she wanted. Somewhere along the way she’d convinced herself she could have a quiet, ordinary life. For the first time in nearly five years, she’d found a place to escape the pressures of being Callie Davis the artist, but there was nowhere she could hide from being Little Girl Lost. Eventually the press would die down; the media would pack up their news vans and catch the next ferry back to the mainland, but she would never be recognized for her talents again. In the public’s eye, she would forever be seen as the sad blue-eyed child who’d been abandoned at a nasty diner in Hartford, Connecticut.

She rushed to her feet when a commotion of chirping sirens and blue flashing lights started outside. Seconds later the garage door opened then closed and Nate stepped inside.

“Honey, I’m home.”

She forced a smile as their eyes met. “Hi.”

He took off his jacket and draped it over one of the chairs then walked to her, wrapping her up in a hug.

She returned his embrace, holding on tight. “That was quite an entrance,” she said, making certain her voice sounded easy and bright—the way she typically greeted him when he walked through the door. “Lights and sirens.”

“Shawn had to help a little—followed me and made sure no one snuck under the door while it closed.”

Her hand clutched at his shirt in reflex as she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He kissed the top of her head and eased back, staring into her eyes. “I mean it.”

She nodded, blinking back tears, refusing to let them fall.